


Melancholy Kaleidoscope

by enbymako



Category: Free!
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gender Confusion, Haru uses he/they pronouns but I only use he/him until he's come out!!!!, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Nonbinary Nanase Haruka, Other, Tachibana Makoto is a Sweetheart, follows the plot of s2!, so warning for spoilers i guess LOL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbymako/pseuds/enbymako
Summary: Nanase Haruka has grown up with an everlasting feeling in his gut that comes with the idea of what defines a man. An identity crisis during regionals really is the last thing a swimmer could want on his plate. Everything is okay until it's not.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Nanase Haruka is 10 years old the first time it happens. The first time he feels a twinge in his heart, feels like something isn’t _quite_ right. 

He’s been roped into playing house. Makoto thought it a good idea to try and make more friends despite Haruka’s clear disinterest and Haru can say no to the way big green eyes stare at him pleadingly. It’s a group of girls and boys alike, but the girls decide they are in charge of assigning roles. Haru doesn’t question Makoto being made the dad, his height made it clear who they’d pick him out to be. 

What he _does_ question is the way he’s made the son. He knows it shouldn’t bother him considering that _technically_ he is in fact a son outside of this _stupid_ game he was pulled into. But, there’s something weird that happens when they say it. It doesn’t sound the same coming from people who aren’t his parents.

“Why?” Haru’s voice sounds more offended than he means. The girl’s finger is still pointing in his face, having just declared him as son. Her hand then falls to her side and she looks at him as if he’s just asked the dumbest question in the world.

“Because you’re a boy and Tachibana-san is already the dad! Obviously!” She says in such a tone that makes Haru want to scoff and walk off. He doesn’t, because his heart is too stuck on the phrase, _‘You’re a boy’._

Again, it shouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t know why it does. It just feels weird coming from them, coming from someone who isn’t him or his parents or even Makoto. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he scoffs a laugh, blowing a piece of hair from his face. He leaves it alone after that but he doesn’t miss the way confusion flashes on Makoto’s face like a big red sign. 

Nanase Haruka is about 12 years old the next time it happens. 

He joins the swim club with Makoto in their middle school. Which is fine, he doesn’t actually care. It's not a big deal at all. But there’s this weird sensation again when their swim captain, Natsuya, says something about the boy’s races as opposed to the girl’s race and suddenly the lines seem to blur and Haru’s not sure which side of the line he’s supposed to be on. He listens to the way Makoto calls his name gently, coaxing him from thinking so deeply. Makoto’s pretty observant, he can read Haru like a book, but there’s something indescribable written on Haru’s face and Makoto doesn’t know what it is. It scares him. Makoto watches as Haru acts as if nothing is wrong, but he knows better.

Nanase Haruka tries to let it go after that. He’s asked the water what it means, he always does in times of distress or discomfort, but it bears no response.

He’s 18 the next time he actually thinks about it. 

He thinks about this bizarre feeling that comes along with this idea of being a man. It ties in with the way he feels lonely. He doesn’t know why he does feel that way, because he knows he’s not actually alone. Nagisa’s loud presence makes that hard to forget, and yet there’s no sense of belonging when he’s with everyone, especially when they talk about a future or university or other things Haru doesn’t want to even touch on. Loneliness and turmoil reared their ugly heads, and suddenly it's all he can ever think about. _Too much effort,_ he had decided, and ignored the sting in his heart for as long as he possibly could. Until eventually, like everything else in his current storm of a life, everything boils over. 

And it’s not like he can complain about the constant appraisal, he’d feel selfish if he did. Haru knows he’s a good swimmer, he's aware of it, but there’s so much blind faith behind the words that it makes his skin itch. It pulls tight at his chest until he feels like he’s going to stop breathing. 

Starting back up a swim club in high school was one of the better choices Haru has ever made. He’s missed the water, he’s missed the way the thrill thrums through his veins when he swims with those he holds dear. What he doesn’t miss is the blurry lines that make him wonder why he has to be in the men’s race and why it wasn’t a combined item. Technically he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any fairer or less confusing. 

They’re at regionals now, Iwatobi’s swim club, and Haru feels like he’s going to be sick. It’s inevitable that the others point out the amount of scouts that lurk the venue, but he still feels that pit form in his stomach upon their mention. The dream he had the night before still lingers over him like a dark cloud, the way he looked over to see a sleeping Makoto, and it did nothing to settle his nerves. Even now, as much as it saddens him to think about, Makoto isn’t able to provide him the comfort he needs to feel okay right now. If anything, he starts to feel worse by the thought of him. He hates that. 

Makoto’s race is the first among them, he’s in the third heat. Haruka wants to concentrate on it, cheer as loud as he can for his best friend, he truly does, but his voice is stuck in his throat and his brain is so foggy he can barely even hear anything that’s going on. _Scouts, identity, future,_ none of it makes any sense. None of it is as clear as the water that he engulfs himself in. The water is understanding, and Haru’s not sure if he can say the same about everyone else.

Haru doesn’t realise the race is over until his club mates have gone quiet, and it’s only then that he picks his head up from where it was focused on the water to glance at the scoreboard. _Tachibana Makoto, fourth place. He lost._

Miss Amakata sounds like she’s trying to offer comforting words but Haru’s eyes lead over to where Makoto is standing in the water. He’d still get scouted. Haru knows he will. Haru also feels the dip it causes in his stomach when he thinks about it. It starts to ache when he realises the freestyle heats are next. _His race._

He has to leave before Makoto is able to return, before Haru is able to congratulate him regardless of not making the base time. The journey from the stands to the locker rooms is anxiety-ridden, and even more so when Rin catches up to him, and they’re about to approach the pool. 

“Have you made up your mind?” He asks Haru. It’s not meant to be something hurtful, something confusing, but Haru takes it to the heart the way he knows he’s not supposed to.  
  
“Not really,” Haru answers dismissively. There’s some truth to it, but even still Rin doesn’t look pleased with his answer, and it makes Haru’s skin itch again. He mentions the scouts, the calls, the opportunities and Haru’s heart sinks further into his chest again. He stops walking, and the red-haired boy seems to sense his discomfort. Rin scoffs. 

“Fine,” He says, turning his back to continue walking, “We’ll talk after the race, then.”

It isn’t until the fifth heat of freestyle that Rin finally swims, and Haru is watching with anxious eyes. A perfect kick off when the whistle sounds, a perfect form when dives, a perfect lead when he swims, everything perfect. He wins, _of course he does, how could he not?_ Beats the base time with a time that could take him to finals and with such ease that it makes Haru both proud and sick. A sickness that all but gets worse when they call for the sixth heat of swimmers. _His heat of swimmers. His race. His race. A men’s race. He’s in a men’s race. What defines being a man?_

The words are like a chant in his head that make him feel closer and closer to sinking to the bottom of the pool and never resurfacing. He knows he should just focus on getting through the race, but he also tells himself it’s easier said than done, which is quite true when you’re about as shaken up as Haru is. 

His eyes are on the water, but he doesn’t feel the same he usually does when staring at it. Instead, vivid images of his dream from the night prior flash in his head, playing like a broken record that’s spinning on repeat. The way so many eyes feel on him makes his body scream. He can’t be here, he can’t do this. 

The whistle blows and the swimmers stand on their respective starting blocks. Haru can feel more than hear the way his breath isn’t even, can hear more than feel the way his heart is throbbing inside his chest. He pulls on his goggles from where they rest on top of his head. 

“Take your marks,”

Back arched, fingers stretched, toes curled around the block. _Has anyone ever thrown up in their pool before? Haru would be happy to be the first._

_“Go!”_

His feet kick him off, and he’s engulfed in the water. But it’s not the same. His arms aren’t gliding the way he’s used to, his hands aren’t piercing the water as easy, no. No, it’s wrong and he feels like he’s suffocating despite the huge gulps of air he takes. It’s like swimming through molasses that sticks to his skin. It’s then that he realises he’s slowed. Slowing until eventually his feet hit the floor of the pool and he’s standing in the midst of racers that are desperate to beat the base time that Haru’s letting slip away from him. 

He can feel the shock radiating from his club members, from his friends, from across the arena. Haru feels it himself. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t unsettle him. He’s almost relieved. It feels like they’re listening, that they’re finally _seeing._

What does unsettle him is the way he can see Makoto with slumped shoulders even from where Haru stands in the pool. 

Nothing feels real when he finally pulls himself out of the pool. Nothing Haru feels can be explained after that. 

He doesn’t spare another glance towards his club members. Turning on his heel as the water dribbles onto his skin from his soaked hair, he speeds off towards the locker rooms. 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s a blur really, the way the past few weeks have been. He loses, they win the medley, Haru gets scouted anyways, he has a fight with Rin, and then they’re back at practice as if nothing ever happened. Haru’s loss at regionals hasn’t been mentioned, nor the situation with Rin but there’s a way it lingers over everyone as if they want to ask. He appreciates that they don’t. Then again, maybe they don’t have to, seeming as they still made it to nationals through the medley relay. 

It’s not as easy to swim, Haru finds. Not since regionals. It’s almost like he’s strangers with the water once again, like he doesn’t know the water like he used to. He thought the water was understanding but maybe he had it wrong, maybe it was finally rejecting him. It’s frustrating. It’s not made easier by this weird hesitation that exuberates from everyone. They make it clear they want to say something, want to know so badly what’s settling underneath Haru’s skin. It’s not like he could tell them anyways, as if it’ll make any sense. 

It’s a day off of practice, and they’re all gathered in Haru’s home again. There’s something familiar about it that makes Haru feel less tense than he had been in a long while. He’s in his kitchen making tea, and he can hear the sounds of Nagisa blabbering loudly about something while Rei hits back with quips that make Nagisa whine in complaint. It’s what it usually is like on afternoons like this, it feels normal.

Haru hears footsteps up behind him, but he doesn’t take his eyes from the kettle. As lame as it might be, he’s pretty aware of who it is. 

“Need some help?” Makoto’s voice asks. It’s just as cheery and kind as ever and it makes Haruka’s brain stop pacing so much. It’s a bit easier to think, a bit easier to breathe. Haru shakes his head softly, but looks at Makoto in a way that he hopes the boy will take as an “I appreciate the offer.”

“No, it’s okay.” He simply says aloud. Makoto only gives a gentle smile and the shrug of his shoulders in response. He doesn’t leave the kitchen though, and he seems like he wants to say something else. If he does want to say it, he doesn’t. Haru can see the way the cogs of his brain are overworking themselves. He registers what Makoto wants to say before he can get it out.

“I’m really okay,” Haru tells him, “Makoto worries too much.”

Haru watches the way he smiles sadly, watches the way his muscles relax and how his nerves don't seem as bad as they were just a moment ago. 

“I know,” Makoto responds, but it doesn’t sound entirely true, “I care about you, I’m bound to worry.”

It makes Haru a little flustered, the way Makoto can tell him such things so easily. Or maybe it’s that he’s telling Haru something he wants to hear more of because there’s something different that happens to his insides when Makoto says he cares about Haru. (Not that he’d admit that openly, though.)

“Hey, Haru?” The taller boy then asks. Haru turns to him. Makoto’s palms are on the counter and he’s leaning his body into the edge of it. He looks at peace, but there’s a serious look on his face that makes Haru a little unnerved. It’s not a look he sees very often at all. Makoto’s eyes are on the teacups that line the tray Haru’s been preparing. Green eyes don’t glance at him but Makoto can all but sense that he’s got the boy’s attention. He takes Haru’s silence as an initiative to continue.

“You _would_ tell me if something was wrong… wouldn’t you?” 

His eyes are on Haru now, watching the way Haru’s head tilts and his eyebrows draw together to study Makoto’s expression back. Makoto can see that it’s not an easy question, the way Haru hesitates to actually answer.

“I don’t know,” Haru responds honestly. He watches Makoto carefully. He doesn’t want to lie but hurting him is also the last thing he wants. However, Makoto’s expression doesn’t change. He’s not upset, and he’s not hurt. At most he looks worried. 

“But you know you can, right? I know you say nothing’s bothering you but I really do care about you and I’ll always help you how I can if something is.” 

There’s that tingle in Haru’s insides again. He hopes Makoto won’t ever read the fondness that shows on his face during moments like this. The corners of his mouth lift up a little, that tiny smile that he only ever really can give to Makoto.

“Thanks.”

Makoto nods his head, eyes squinting with the smile that lights up his entire face. Haruka thinks the world of that smile. He thinks the world of Makoto. 

Makoto’s the last to go home out of all of them, which isn’t unusual. They walk the others to the station before it gets too dark, where they all split ways and wave each other off. Makoto doesn’t split from Haru when they reach the steps to where Makoto’s home steers away from Haru’s. They don’t say anything about it, they never usually do, but Haru’s a little happy the taller boy’s decided to stay for a little longer, he’s always pretty happy that he’s decided to stay. He doesn’t want that to change. 

The night is cool, a complete contrast to how the summer has made the heat pretty unbearable during the day. A breeze brushes against Haru’s skin from where the doors to his backyard lie open. Makoto’s by his side and they’re having dinner that Haru prepared. (Makoto _tried_ to help but Haruka won’t let him anywhere near the kitchen. He whines about it and Haru stifles a smile.)

They’re pretty silent when they eat, or at least Haru is anyways. Makoto rambles on about Ran and Ren and how grown up they’re coming to be, and about school and how he had people congratulating him on getting through to nationals and how it made him embarrassed. Haru merely nods his head along. He’s listening but truthfully all he can think about is the way Makoto’s eyes sparkle like emeralds in the sunlight when he talks. 

Despite not being allowed to help with cooking, Makoto is insistent on helping wash up. It’s a battle Haru loses pretty easily and makes Makoto light up in victory. It feels natural, it _is_ natural, the way they stand by each other but there’s something bizarre that happens to Haru’s insides when he hears the way Makoto hums as he works. It’s something that pulls an unwilling smile to his face and he doesn’t have a name for that feeling. 

They play a game after that. They’re in Haru’s living room pressed to each other’s sides. It’s the game they played at Makoto’s a few weeks ago, the one that was left at Haru’s home when Makoto hurries himself to get home with a hundred apologies blurting from his lips. Between them it’s quiet apart from the way the cicadas sing outside and the frantic clicking of controller buttons. Haru notices distantly the crickets have started up too. 

“Do you want to stay tonight?” asks Haru, eyes not leaving the tv screen. Makoto’s eyes widen, and he takes a glimpse at the watch around his wrist. It’s a friday, so he knows Makoto will say yes but there’s a part of him that tells him he shouldn’t have asked.

“Oh! I hadn’t even realised how late it had gotten.” The brunet laughs awkwardly, scratching at his chin. It’s not a no, but it’s not a yes, so Haru says, “Stay tonight.”

It’s direct and it’s accidentally more desperate than Haru intends it to sound but he really doesn’t want Makoto to leave. It’s then that Haru pauses the game and moves his gaze to the boy next to him. It clearly shocked Makoto too, Haru’s weird tone. His eyebrows are thrown up a little in surprise, then his expression shifts and Makoto is grinning softly at him in a way that makes everything feel better. That unwilling smile is back and Haru doesn’t try to will it away this time. 

“Okay,” says Makoto, “Just let me text my parents.” 

They set Makoto up in Haru’s room on the spare futon. He wants to offer his pyjamas but he honestly has no idea if they’d fit Makoto. He’d always been bigger than Haru was. Makoto seems to sense Haru’s distress, turning to where the shorter boy stands at his open closet, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at the clothes. (He’s thinking maybe if he willed them they’d grow a size.)

Makoto smiles gently at his expression. 

“It’s okay, Haru,” He says to gain the boy’s attention. Blue eyes look over at him. There’s a frown on Haru’s face that’s just _almost_ a pout and it’s enough to make Makoto’s heart beat a little faster. He has to erase the idea of kissing pouty lips belonging to his best friend before the image can actually appear in his head with vivid detail. 

“I can just sleep in my clothes, it’s not a big deal.” 

“No,” Haru chirps suddenly, giving the slight shake of his head in disagreement. “I’m sure I have _something_ to fit you. I’m sorry I didn’t really think this through all that well.” 

Makoto doesn’t say anything, but he tilts his head and smiles at him in a wordless way of saying ‘It’s really okay, you don’t need to apologise’, and it makes Haru feel less guilty. Only a little bit.

He turns back to his closet and begins to ruffle through. He thinks maybe he should start clearing out, he hasn’t done that in a while and it’s starting to feel like he has too many clothes. Clouded with thoughts, Haru then stumbles on an old shirt that’s two times his size and quickly realises it’s not even his.

It’s the one Makoto lent to him the last time they’d had a sudden sleepover, the coloured block t-shirt Makoto loves to wear to sleep. Haru’s guilt resurfaces when he realises he’d forgotten to give it back after wearing it home. It’s washed, Haru’s wouldn’t offer up a dirty t-shirt, but he’s still embarrassed when he turns to offer the shirt to Makoto.

The taller boy looks at it in surprise, blinks a few times before asking, “Isn’t this my shirt?” 

Haru’s head turns to the side, but Makoto can see the light colour in his cheeks.

“I forgot to give it back to you after I washed it. Sorry.”

Makoto can feel his own ears tickling pink. He doesn’t know why it makes his stomach tie in knots at the thought of Haru keeping his shirt. He knows it was an accident but there’s a smile that forces its way onto his lips, especially at the thought of Haru in this shirt. He loves Haru in this shirt. It suits him. Maybe he should keep it.

“Thank you, Haru,” Makoto says as he accepts the shirt back. 

The night air gets colder as clouds roll in. They’re both in bed, tucked under blankets but there’s an uneasiness in the air that goes unspoken. Thunder starts outside, rain pelting down on the roof. It should be calming, but it isn’t. Haru doesn’t say anything, Makoto doesn’t say anything, but they both know the other is awake. 

“Haru?” Makoto’s voice then calls out gently. It’s gentle but it sounds so vulnerable that it makes Haru’s heart ache. Haru hums a noise to let him know he’s listening. There’s a pause, almost as if Makoto is considering not saying what he wanted to say after all. Haru turns on his side so he’s facing where Makoto is laying on the futon, where he finds Makoto already looking at him. He looks tired. He can see the way Makoto’s mouth is open to speak but how the words die on his tongue. 

“Are you okay?” Haru questions. Makoto’s lips press together again. 

“I’m scared,” He answers honestly. His voice is so quiet that Haru almost doesn’t hear it over the battering rain. He watches the taller boy flinch at the clap of thunder that sounds outside. 

_‘Can I sleep closer to you?’_ is essentially what Makoto is asking. It bewilders Haru a little. He didn’t think thunderstorms still frightened Makoto so much. He knew it used to, but it didn’t occur that it was something Makoto still hated. 

Haru sits up a little, and pushes the blankets down. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he shifts himself out of bed and moves so he’s hovering near Makoto. It doesn’t seem to hit Makoto that Haru understood what it was he wanted. The younger always asked so easily when they were kids, he’s not sure why it’s harder to ask now, but there’s a relief he feels that Haru silently understood. He thinks maybe it’s weird that he, an almost 18 year old man, still needed his best friend’s comfort during a silly little storm. 

He watches Haru grasp a pillow and chuck it down next to where Makoto is laying and so he takes it upon himself to wriggle himself over. The space is tighter than it was when they were younger, that much was obvious from how much they had grown, but it doesn’t feel as strange as it probably should. Makoto’s heart slows with Haru next to him. He feels the way Haru bumps into him as the older tries his best to get comfortable and it floods Makoto’s senses with an odd reassurance. _Comfort_ , he thinks absentmindedly. 

“Are you okay?” Haru prompts again, eyes scanning Makoto’s face for an answer if he wasn’t willing to say one. Makoto’s lips curl, and he nods his head.

“Better,” He says simply and Haru watches the way his eyelids start to fight to close. Makoto yawns, and presses his face further into his pillow, snuggling into it. There’s something really cute about it that a tiny grin makes it onto Haru’s face. _Cute?_

“Goodnight, Makoto.” 

“Goodnight, Haru-chan.”

Haru closes his eyes but sleep doesn’t come as easily as it seems to come to Makoto. He can hear the way Makoto’s breathing evens out, and feels the way a wandering hand curls into his shirt unconsciously. It’s something Makoto’s always done, almost as if to make sure Haru doesn’t get taken away from him in his sleep. The fact that he still does it makes it feel like that hand is clenching around Haru’s heart. 

He opens his eyes, where he’s met with the sight of his sleeping best friend. Makoto’s lips are parted slightly, and half his face is squished into the pillow he’d snuggled into. Haru watches the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his shirt reveals a little of his collarbone, the way his hair falls in his face. Haru doesn’t resist the urge to brush it from his face gently. 

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he’s thankful he does. He doesn’t really get to look at Makoto this close, and it makes Haru’s insides thrum a little. His fingers brush Makoto’s ear when he pushes the hair back, and it makes something inside Haru burn. He smiles a little wider. 

The way he looks in the moonlight, the way he looks when he’s most content, the way he smiles even in his sleep, Haru decides he likes looking at Makoto like this the most. He hopes he can do it more, but he supposes that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Then again, everything in his life is pretty weird right now, so he’d let himself have this. Let himself adore the sight of dark eyelashes against rosier skin, the parted lips he desperately wants to kiss. Haru stops grinning. _Kiss?_

No, now _that’s_ weird. _He wants to kiss Makoto. Why does he want to kiss Makoto?_

Suddenly where Makoto’s legs are pressed against his in the small space makes him feel like he’s on fire. His eyes drop to Makoto’s mouth, and he’s staring as much as he can because he doesn’t understand where this idea has come from so suddenly. _Would Makoto kiss him back?_

Haru’s heart is racing so much he’s afraid that it’s so loud Makoto will wake up. 

Is this the weirdest thing that’s happened the past few weeks? Probably. He tries to force the thought of kissing Makoto away. That’s weird, you don’t kiss your best friend. That’s not what friends do. But there’s no lying and saying it doesn’t make butterflies bat storms with their wings inside his stomach. Haru swallows, distinctly aware of the way his throat has gone dry. 

Makoto wouldn’t think he’s weird, right? Hopes he won't think he’s weird. Not to say he would ever tell Makoto of these thoughts but there’s the underlying hope that the younger has wondered the same things. Would Makoto think he’s weird for not thinking the term boy is right for Haru? 

Haru’s back staring at Makoto’s sleeping face. It’s this yearning in his chest that makes him want to wake Makoto up and tell him everything that’s been on his mind, tell him how there’s something weird that happens to him when people call him a man, that he’s so stressed about a future that it makes him so angry he could cry. He doesn’t.

“Makoto,” He whispers so quietly, making sure it doesn’t _actually_ stir him. Makoto stays sleeping, nothing changing in his breathing pattern and he doesn’t move either. Haru sighs through his nose. His hand comes up to run fingers along the back of Makoto’s palm. Makoto’s fingers twitch slightly from the way it would tickle. Haru smiles sadly. 

“Would you still care about me the way you do if I was different?” He’s asking. He doesn’t _actually_ want Makoto to wake up and answer, doesn’t want Makoto to _actually_ know, but it feels so good to say it. Makoto continues sleeping, and hot tears sting at Haru’s eyes. Now, **_he’s_ ** scared. He’s not losing Makoto and they are pressed so close to each other that Haru can feel the hot breaths Makoto exhales against his skin, but Haru doesn’t think he’s ever felt so far away.

He forces his eyes closed. He lets himself have this, keeps Makoto’s hand under his own because now he’s the one who is afraid of Makoto being stolen away from him while he’s asleep. Listening to the way the storm calms outside until it’s a light pattering of downpour on tin roofs, Haru falls asleep with Makoto’s hand in his. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The way his own handwriting stares him in the face makes Haru’s stomach churn unpleasantly. The word free has never felt so contradictory until as of recently. He was always free, how had that changed? 

He’s holding the paper above his head, staring at it as the distant glow from the sunset illuminates the sheet. It’s still a little warm, a little warmer where he lays directly in the sun, but Haru doesn’t really mind it — likes the way the sun hits his face. It’s not until he hears voices calling him that he finally drops his arm, sitting up to look at everyone.

Nagisa, Rei and Makoto all stand by the open door, offering smiles warmer than the sun he was just basking in. 

“Let’s go see the fireworks, Haru-chan.” Makoto says, almost as if gently reminding him because — Oh, Haru had _definitely_ forgotten about agreeing to see the fireworks during the bon festival with everyone. Haru crawls to his feet, mumbling out a brief agreement in response. 

The walk isn’t long, and the way the sun sets as they walk makes it bearable. There’s loads of people lined along the beach with lanterns, looks of almost content on their faces as they set them down into the water. It’s a beautiful sight really. The way the lights of the lanterns reflect off the water in the dark glow of the early night is really something Haru’s glad to be seeing. 

They all pause where they are standing for a long moment, and they’re not surprised when Nagisa is the first to speak. However, the tone that comes from him is unsettling. It’s timid, and very _not_ like the Hazuki Nagisa they’ve all grown to adore.

“Hey, Haru-chan?” He says, voice careful in a way they’ve never actually heard him speak before. Haru tilts to look at him. 

“What is it?” He responds. Nagisa looks almost scared. 

“Before we go to nationals, t-there’s something Rei-chan and I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t think we’ll properly be a team if we don’t mention it.”

It’s a brief glance at Rei that Haru realises he knows what this is about. The fight with Rin, stopping mid-race, the future. Rei swallows.

“We’ve admired your swimming for a long time. Watching you swim so free has made me find myself wanting to swim like you. But…..” The violet-eyed boy pauses for a moment, “Your swimming… it doesn’t feel like you anymore. It just isn’t you.”

There’s that feeling again, the feeling of letting everyone down. _It just isn’t you._ Haru’s fists clench by his sides and he really wishes the earth would swallow him whole and never spit him back out. Confronting this is the last thing he wants. He feels Makoto’s presence behind him, that feeling of ‘someone finally said it’ clouding the air that Haru breathes. _Just leave it alone._

“I just don’t get it.” He mutters. It’s angry and harsh. He wants to elaborate that he’s not angry at them because he can see the way Nagisa’s face drops. No, it’s himself. He’s lost and confused and all they want to do is help but he can only respond in irritation. _It’s not your fault,_ he wants to say, _I’m sorry for worrying you._ But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns on his feet, and leaves. 

He’s briefly aware of where he’s going, feet treading up stairs until he reaches a balcony that overlooks the beach. He can see the lights clearly, the water even better and it does a little to help him unclench his jaw. 

What exactly was it Haru wanted? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he’ll ever know. He thinks of Makoto, thinks of swimming, and they’re about the only things that make sense. Thoughts swirl like a hurricane.

There’s light footsteps and a hesitant approach. Haru doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look away from where his eyes are locked on the water. He knows. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” says Makoto. It’s bright and cheery but Haru can hear the way Makoto is uneasy. He gives the shrug of his shoulders but remains quiet. There’s nothing Haru could say that would actually make sense to anyone, it doesn’t even make sense to himself. He doesn’t see a future that makes sense, a _dream_ that makes sense. 

“Haru, I don’t think you can go on this way either.” The taller boy says after a long pause.

“At first I thought if this was what you really wanted, that you didn’t have anything to strive towards, that was okay…. But.. the things you said to Rin, the way you’ve been acting….” 

Haru thinks of his fight with Rin, thinks of the way he slammed a hand into the locker out of frustration and scared everyone in a way that made him feel like some sort of monster. It made his hand hurt and he’d sported a bruise for a good few days. It was stupid, but he was so, so, _so_ angry and nobody’s seeing that. He thought regionals would be when they all finally saw but it changed nothing. It’s worse. Nobody will be quiet, nothing will be quiet.

 _I’m not like you,_ he had told Rin.

He doesn’t think he meant it the way that they all thought he did. It wasn’t about not _wanting_ to have a dream to strive towards, it was knowing he was unhappy and that he couldn’t think of anything that would possibly stop that, knowing that there wasn’t some dream he could just suddenly wake up with some day like everyone else had seemed to. Simply being free, that was a dream, was it not?

“If you truly want to stay as you are, I won’t say anything. But, if it’s just that you don’t have a dream for yourself… I would want you to find one.” Makoto’s facing him now but Haru still doesn’t turn to look at him. What Haru _does_ do is scoff and pushes himself off the railing he’s leaning against. 

“Is that something you can find simply just by deciding to look for one?” Haru questions. It’s genuine but there’s an edge to his tone that says to tread carefully. He cranes his neck when Makoto doesn’t respond, sees the way that Makoto is trying to say something but he’s looking for the right words. Haru exhales an annoyed sigh. He’s not annoyed with Makoto, or at least he doesn’t want to be. 

“Forget it,” Haru says, “I’m done talking about this.”

He walks past Makoto, goes to leave, to run away again from all of this. But before he can, fingers slip around his wrist and grasp, stopping him from moving any further. 

“Wait!”

“Let go of me!” yells Haru, trying to yank his hand away. Makoto’s grip doesn’t budge and it’s times like this Haru curses the way he’s always been built so strong. 

“Just listen to me!” Makoto pleads. Green eyes stare into blue, desperate and hopeless. Haru doesn’t back down, he doesn’t know why he doesn’t back down. His skin burns where Makoto touches him. 

“It doesn’t matter how many times I listen, it’s all the same! I’m fine with the way things are!” 

It’s a lie, Makoto knows this. He knows every twitch, every sigh, every lying breath Haru takes, he always has. 

“You want to find a dream too, you know you do! You have the ability to do whatever you want, Haru!” Makoto’s voice raises. He’s more frustrated than angry, Haru can hear it. He doesn’t want this, but it’s almost like he stirs the pot himself. 

Haru struggles again against Makoto’s grip, “Even you’re talking like this? I’m free to decide these things for myself, and I’m telling you I’m fine with the way that things are!”

The firm fingers around Haru’s wrist tighten. He wonders if Makoto even realises it. But before Haru can even tell him, his attention is elsewhere.

“ _But you’re not fine!”_

Makoto all but screams it at him. It makes Haru freeze where he’s standing. He’s never heard Makoto like this. Never. Not once in his entire life has he ever heard Makoto raise his voice or yell so angry.

Angry. He _is_ angry.

“You’re clearly not fine, that’s why we’re all telling you this! Rin, Nagisa, Rei… Me….” Makoto’s voice quietens down, “It’s because we care about you… Because we _love_ you. _Why can’t you understand that?!”_

Haru thinks he might’ve stopped breathing. His heart is throbbing inside his chest. Love. They love him. Makoto loves him. He loves Makoto.

He loves Makoto. 

Haru loves Makoto. 

Haru’s _in love_ with Makoto.

Haru wants to say sorry and kiss Makoto silly.

He thinks he might throw up.

“We want you to look forward to the future… To a dream that will make you happy…”

“All you ever do is meddle with everyone! Stop sticking your nose in other people’s business!” 

Haru doesn’t know why he says it, doesn’t know why he twists his fingers into the collar of Makoto’s shirt the way that he does. He can’t stop it. Everything’s spun out of control. He loves a boy. A boy. He doesn’t think _he’s_ a boy, but what does that change? Nothing, considering he’s your best friend.

The hurt that flashes in Makoto’s eyes doesn’t seem to deter the storm that spills from Haru, but his stomach churns worse and he’s so certain he’s going to vomit. 

“You keep talking about my future but what about yours? How can you decide my future for me when you haven’t even decided your own?!” Haru wants it to stop, he wants to stop talking, but Makoto doesn’t say anything. Makoto’s silent, why is Makoto silent?

Haru’s grip starts to loosen but there’s still a snarkiness in his tone when he barks, “Say something.” 

It’s only then that Haru remembers the hand around his wrist, as it finally drops back to Makoto’s side. Makoto smiles sadly at him. Even after hurtful words, he can smile. After all that, he still can give Haru a smile as if everything is okay despite knowing it’s not. 

“I _have_ decided,” His voice is soft, anything that they were just saying or feeling suddenly evaporating into the night air. 

“I’m going to university in Tokyo.” 

Haru distantly thinks about how it’s possible to hear nothing but his own heartbeat. The fireworks start, loud popping and crackling bursting into the night sky in vivid colour but Haru can’t hear it over the blood that roars in his ears. 

Makoto goes to say something, but it’s like he can sense Haru’s distress and he doesn’t know what the right words are with this. It’s not often Haruka ever cries but the past few weeks have made it hard to stop. He’s blinking furiously, trying to stop the tears that blur his vision. 

“Haru—” He starts, but Haru really can’t stand to hear his voice right now. 

_“Do what you want!”_

The words tear from Haru’s throat harshly enough to hurt, and he hates the way it makes Makoto flinch. Before he can think about it, he’s turning on his heel and running. He can hear the way Makoto calls after him in worry but he doesn’t stop. He’s running and running and running until he hits home and collapses against his front door as it closes.

_I’m going to university in Tokyo._

He’s supposed to be happy for Makoto, knows that he’s being so selfish but truthfully, it rips at his heart. Being by Makoto is all he’s ever actually known. 

Haru’s panting heavily enough that it makes his mouth hurt from how dry it is, but he stays where he’s leaning his weight into the door.

He wants to sprint back there, blurt his apologies and kiss Makoto until his lips turn blue and his lungs are collapsing in on themselves. (Kinda like how they feel now.) 

Haruka eventually lifts himself up, he’s grabbing a glass of water and chugging it down like he’s gone without it for days. His legs are still shaking, as are his hands, but he’s carefully treading up the steps to his bedroom. 

Realistically, Haru wants to tell Makoto everything, wants Makoto to comfort him, wants to comfort Makoto. He wants to squeeze Makoto’s hand and cry into his shoulder about everything until he tires himself out. Wants to fall asleep with his head tucked under Makoto’s chin, safe and warm with the taller boy’s heartbeat underneath his fingertips. Wants to tell Makoto he doesn’t know if he’s really a boy. 

He’s physically exerted himself but the last thought makes the ache in his body worse. 

It frustrated Haru to no end. _Why? Why wasn’t he happy this way? Was he the only one? What was_ **_happening_ ** _to him?_

Haru doesn’t use his phone very often. He finds no use in it when he can speak to people face to face, finds no use in searching for things he could ask Makoto or even Rei. However, he finds fidgety hands pulling the cellphone from the edge of his desk. He sits on his bed and switches it on. There are notifications he elects to ignore, missed calls left unanswered, as he pulls up a search tab. That’s where his fingers freeze over the keyboard.

What was he even meant to search?  
  
 _‘What the fuck am I?’_ , comes to his head, and he briefly snorts out a laugh. It does nothing to erase the dark feeling that’s still simmering his insides. He inhales, ponders on it for a bit longer.

 _‘I don’t feel like a boy.’_ He types in after a long moment of thinking. Blood roars in his ears as he watches result after result pop up. Haru distantly wonders if he’s ever felt as nervous in his life as he has right now. Nonetheless, he scrolls through, acting as dismissively as he can about it despite the way the nausea gets worse and now his heart is pounding so hard it hurts. 

The results mainly come from other people pondering the same thing as him; _Why don’t I feel like I’m a boy?_ And he picks the one titled under the heading ‘ _Understanding Gender Identity’._

It’s insightful, although not in the way he might have been expecting. He’s not exactly trying to understand what it means to be a man, no, that’s not it. And he doesn’t feel like a girl either, so he rules that out rather quickly. Haru sighs frustrated, backpedalling on his search to add, _“I also don’t feel like a girl.”_

Again, his heart hurts as he watches it come up, people similar to his own situation. 

_‘Am I Non-binary?’,_ one of them is titled. He opts for that one, out of curiosity for the most part as he’s not quite sure if he’s even heard that word before. It’s someone asking a question that starts off simple enough. _I don’t feel like a boy, but I don’t want to be a girl either, would that mean I’m non-binary?_

The answers are kind. They make Haru’s chest unwind a little even though he’s still not sure what they’re entirely talking about. 

_‘If that’s what you feel most comfortable with, then yes!’_ is one of the replies that makes Haru have a little smile tug at his lips. He’s not sure if he’s willing to admit that it’s because he hears it in Makoto’s comforting tone, though. Haru breathes a sigh out through his nose.

 _Loser_ , he tells himself. 

Haruka goes back to the search engine. 

_’What exactly does non-binary mean?’_

He’s seemingly less nervous than before, but the anticipation of the search loading doesn’t do anything to slow his heartbeat. But as quickly as it’s going, his heartbeat feels like it’s lurched to a complete halt when he reads the main result. 

_“Non-binary: An umbrella term to describe a spectrum of identities that exist outside the gender binary — Genders that exist outside of being strictly male or female. Where these identities land on the spectrum depends on an individual and their experiences.”_

It brings Haru the same amount of comfort as it does mortification, and he finds himself throwing his phone to the end of his bed as if he’s been burned. He’s breathing heavily again, hands clenching in fists that are way too tight, nails carving crescents into the skin of his palm. Aware of the dryness that returns in his mouth, Haru tries to swallow. The lump that forms in his throat is making it hard. 

_That was it, wasn’t it? He had his answer. No, surely not. Maybe?_

Haru runs a hand through tousled hair before he sits back down on the edge of his bed, next to where his phone lays discarded. It’s not long before he’s pulling his knees to his chest, eyes stinging as he tries to waver it off. He wishes Makoto was here, just really keeps wishing he could tell Makoto everything that’s bothering him, but he can’t because he went and fucked that up too.

 _“It’s okay,”_ Makoto would say, _“We’ll figure it out together.”_

That stupid fucking smile pops unwanted in his brain, and quickly turns to the image of the way Makoto was clearly hurt from the words _Haru_ spoke to him. _I hurt Makoto, Makoto’s leaving, Makoto is going to hate me_. He’s tousling at his hair again, and the tears hurt even worse.

He knows he shouldn’t care so much, he’s not even _sure_ about it for Christ’s sake! But there’s something so detrimental and terrifying about the idea of disgust and rejection from Makoto that makes his chest pinch tighter. He could live with everyone else rejecting him so long as Makoto stayed by his side. 


End file.
